


I Will Be Back One Day

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: The journey to not only getting back to where they were, but this time, making it a place they can stay is slow, but sure. Takes place in what would be Season 3.
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Kudos: 23





	I Will Be Back One Day

Lucy can feel the bed sink before she hears him, lost in her thoughts. The small frame not nearly big enough for both of them, but it’s not their first time sharing this space. A sly grin appearing crooked on her mouth as she thinks of how many nights as of late that she’s found herself crawling into his bed or he into her’s.

_Her raucous laughter echoed throughout the bunker just a few nights ago as they’d moved just an inch in the wrong direction, and she’d found herself tangled in the sheet, tumbling out of the bed, landing hard on her ass, completely naked. Her stunned face had been met with one of genuine worry from a pair of blue eyes staring down at her, before the shock had waned into a laugh that infectiously gathered him into joining her._

_They’d rested side by side on the cold floor, her hair splayed out against the concrete, her smile reaching her eyes, before she’d curled into him, her hand landing on his chest. The syncopated beat of his heart, filled the empty space of their laughter, until finally, she found herself quieting, her head settling where her hand had just been, his lips burying in her hair, incoherent whispers._

_“I got you something,” she finally made out, lifting her chin, until she could just barely make out the hue of blue peeking out between his lashes._

_“I told you, you didn’t have to get me a gift,” she’d teasingly narrowed her eyes. He laughed, but there was an edge of nerves sprinkled in now, less carefree than just moments before._

_“It’s your birthday,” he’d said, with a half grin, and a jerk of his head, as if there was no way she was getting away without getting a gift._

_Slowly getting up with a grunt, he’d brought her with him, the sheet haphazardly hanging off of her, her hair askew, and she’d attempted to tame it, giving up when her fingers refused to comb through the knots._

_Wyatt reached for something on the table by his bed, the planes of his body eliciting a strain of muscle in his back with his stretch, and Lucy found herself biting her bottom lip, a slight blush tinting her pale cheeks at the thought of her tongue having just traced the same path her eyes were following._

_“Is this the gift?” She’d teased, and she could feel the smile on his face before he turned around, having grabbed what he needed. The nerves seemed to still be present, a certain kind of dance his eyes did, as if in avoidance of her own. But the look on his face seemed to answer her question._

_I’m already yours. You already have me._

_The box he holds out is small, the kind that very expensive jewelry comes in, and she finds herself holding her breath. Because for as well as things are going, they certainly weren’t there yet. They aren’t even telling people about their late night visits, although she has a feeling no one is fooled. She can feel the panic welling up, starting in her stomach, worming its way to a stuttering intake of air._

_“Just open it, Lucy,” he’d said with a shake of his head, having guessed the turmoil she was creating within herself, perhaps the breath she’d refused to let out alerting him to the panic she’d felt._

_“Oh my God…” she’d started, but her words had been quickly lost upon opening the box to see what was inside._

“What are you smiling at,” he says, mirroring her own grin before sinking lower onto the bed, resting on his side so that he’s staring down at her, once again.

Her fingers trace the gold, her ankles crossing, as if the simple gesture will make more room for him. She can feel his breath hitting her, a gentle calm washing over her that she often found when he was around. A confidence that had grown within her on missions, that carried over even when he wasn’t around.

With a heavy sigh, she turns so that she’s also resting on her side, her elbow propping her up so she’s eye level with him, her hands abandoning their task, as if asking to absorb all the memories of the past into her consciousness, soaking them in with the love that she’d so protectively hidden inside.

“I’m glad you like your gift,” he murmurs in the space between them, his fingers from his free hand coming to trace the small loops in the chain that hangs around her neck. The pads of his fingers lingering on her collarbone, before slowly moving down, until he holds the gold locket between them.

“I can’t believe you found it,” she whispers, her eyes quickly flickering to the movement between them. The history, literally, resting between them not lost on her.

“It wasn’t easy,” he laughs with a raise of his brow, and she knows the story. She’d always wondered what he’d been doing on their missions, how he’d often slink off when they weren’t looking, always when he was more than sure she was okay. A new disguise, a new search, forever tracking the remnants of a mistake that he didn’t regret but whose actions had led to the loss of so much that day. They’d slowly been trying to piece their lives back together, regain what they had lost. It had started with Rufus, and had slowly continued with the locket resting between them.

Leaning in, a content sigh escaping her lips, as she reaches out, running her hand across the stubble on his cheek, finding her way to his hair, resting on the back of his neck. A gentle tug, until his lips met her’s. An impatient longing met with fervor, flushing her cheeks with heat, and eliciting a moan of a thank you as they break.

Burying her head in the crook of his neck, his hand finds the small of her back pulling her closer, his thumb dancing across her hip bone, a path he’d blazed across in the previous weeks.

“How am I ever going to top that for your birthday?” She utters into his neck, the vibration of her lips against his skin, reverberating back at her, shivering down her spine.

“Eh, I don’t need anything,” she feels whispered into the crown of her head, a smile followed, ghosting across her skin. The implication that he already had everything he could want silently felt.

Her fingers coming to wrap around the locket.

“Sorry, I couldn’t give you the real thing,” he gestures down. And she knows he means her sister. “But I didn’t want you to have lost everything.”

Her finger dusts over the clasp, everything she’d had before him having been lost. The people she’d held so dear, clung to as her salvation, taken from her by time.

Opening the locket, she looks at the picture of her and her sister, a single picture of just Amy tucked beneath. Tracing over the smiling faces. Across from it, a new picture.

The choice to have taken her guard and reposition it to include him within, no longer fighting the effort, instead choosing to also protect him.

It had been months of getting to know each other again, faltering with trust, and building something stronger this time around, that had ultimately left them in a better place. Their nights no longer about assuaging guilt or quiet trepidation, but rather igniting an ember that refused to die, that surpassed that of just heat, but fire that had been tended to, cared for in a way that ensured it would last. The result, flames lapping at the surface, as they snuck in each other’s beds at night. A crackle radiating throughout the bunker, engulfing them into a quiet glow wherever they were.

He catches the contents of the locket, and he squints, not sure he’s seeing what she’s showing him.

Placing his hand atop of her’s, he brings the locket closer to find a picture of the two of them, likely the only one to exist that isn’t disguised in the past, locked away, worn around her neck in every era of time.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she answers his silent question. Her body pulled closer into him, his lips whispering against her forehead. Because for all she’s lost, he’s still there, holding her close. And she’s unwilling to let him go, even to the hands of time.

_You haven’t lost me._


End file.
